Black Molasses..touch my skin in envy...it shines like a the Diamonds of Sierra Leone...like the body of a Mandolin in the midst of a heavy blues session..like the night sky on a Nepal Sunday night..I smell of decadent amaryllis fields swaying on an April afternoon...Black Molasses..so thick is the curveture of my silouette's hips dancing fierce..If you kissed me the addiction is so heavy you'll rise out of your seat and confess your darkest secrets...Notice my shoulders arched high as the rising tides of Moses...Black Molasses...finger printed in an African womb...Created in the privacy of sweetness..Black Molasses dancing between your your thighs enlightening your mind and enhancing your cries..Black Molasses youve never tasted succulancy like this....Black Molasses youve never grabbed hold of a divine purpose to wake up to you smiling..Black Molasses...Taste Me...Love me..Feel Me...Be Me...

African American Poets

African American Poets

A Tribute To Gil-Scott Heron:"The Revolution Will Not Be Televised"

The Revolution will not be televised..you will not be able to stay home brother...you will not be able to plug in,turn on,or cop out..you will not be able to lose yourself and skag..

and skip out for beer during commercials..because the revolution will not be televised..the revolution will not be televised..the revolution will not be televised...the revolution will not be brought to you by xerox..

In 4 parts without commercial interruptions...the revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon blowing a bugle and leading charge by John Mitchell,general Abrahms and Spiro T.Agnew to eat hogmaws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary..

The Revolution will not be televised..the revolution will not be brought to you by The Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie Woods or Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia..the revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal...the revolution will not get rid of the nubs..the revolution will not make you look 5 pounds thinner...because the revolution will not be televised brother...

there will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays pushin that shopping cart down the block on a dead run..or trying to slide the color television into a stolen ambulance...NBC will not be able to predict the winner at 8:32 or report from 29 districts...the revolution will not be televised..there will be no pictures of pigs shooting down brothers in instant replay...there will be no pictures of Whitney Young being run out of Harlem ona rail with a brand new process..there will be no slow motion or still life of Roy Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red,Black,and Green Liberation jumpsuit he had been saving for just the right occassion..

Green Acres,Beverly Hillbillies and Hooterville Junction will no longer be so damned relevant..and women will not care if Dick finally gets down with Jane on "Search For Tomorrow"..because black people will be in the streets looking for a brighter day..the revolution will not be televised..there will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock news and no pictures of hairy armed women liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose..the theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,Francis Scott Key,nor sung by Glen Campbell,Tom Jones,Johnny Cash,Engelbert Humperdink or Rare Earth..the revolution will not be televised...

The revolution will not be right back after these messages about a white tornado,white lightening or white people..you will not have to worry about a dove in your bedroom,the tigerin your tank or the giant in your toilet bowl..the revolution will not go better with coke..the revolution will not fight germs that may cause bad breath..the revolution will not be televised..the revolution will not be televised..the revolution will not be televised..when the revolution comes.

I Hope You Enjoyed My Creation of this classic and memorable piece that continues to go down in history as one of the most orchestrated pieces of spoken word.Peace&eternal Blessings!!

"The Doobie"

Brown tree..come together with me..slitting the crevice to endure the hydro glow..seedless to speak to my lips wet drippin'..to the surfaces of a unique uplifted dream deferred..

Twist&Turn my mind,divine to unwind

Nectarine dreams choke my throat into ecsatcy

my white owl yearns to burn slow so that I..may live everlasting in smoke infested skies

Oh my how time flies when your in Electric Ladyland..Bflat all night long from dusk to dawn..rising high out of my attire..only to get you higher and higher..

pullin' jaw motion to a close..no longer usin my lips...only to graduate to alligator clips..

resin filled finger tips linger cross your chocolate tide hips...to confide in shit you know you tried to hide...Doobie took over..now your going for the ride

Molestation To Be Treated As A Serious And Hainous Crime

Since the beginning of time dating back to slavery,molestation has still been taken very lightly.No man nor woman has ever asked for this to take place or or them to participate in.When the court system determines what punishment should be issued for this crime,why is it that is has to go to trial for so long?Molestation in my eyes is no difference from Rape.It does cater more towards juvenile and adolescents but is still a serious crime and offense.Basically what their saying is Child Molestation isnt as serious as rape because their usually isnt penetration involved??That statement is totally crast and should never be overlooked.It's still as traumatising to the individual,emotionally and physically scarring and can cause major mental issues down the line.In my opinion,the same way they give 20 years to life for rape,they should do the same for Child Molestation.Number one your taking the innocense from a human being that is incapapble of defending themselves.Number two,9 times out of 10 if the child has recolection of what happened they will be forced into alternative lifestyles.Number three,the child will eventually become rebellious and/or even suicidal.Please share your views on this serious topic and give me your honest feedback.Thankyou

untitled

i stood still..watching from the mezzanine...she lay flat on the plushed matress experimenting with her dream...fingers cascading slowly towards the seam of her laced bottom half drenched with excitement...i began to sweat heavily at the thought her fore fingers molesting her clit drastically with excitement..she noticed me gazing at her silouette with plans to caress her...she then licks the tips of her fingers swallowed halfway down her throats shoot...moans begin to fill the room and panting steams the window panes within a matter of seconds....she raises her back arched at a 45 degree angle to enhance my view...i begin to unravel my belt buckeled tight so that I can get to my zipper which is locked tight as a chasity belt...her nipples stand tall and swollen as if winter had interrupted a good nights sleep...with my chocolate staff free i begin to grow with ecstacy...i turn the spot light on me so she can see what Im workin with...the vein on the top of my swollen gerth begins to pulsate and throb for only her...i notice as she realizes whats shaded through the window..she bites her bottom lip and squinches her eyes in disbelief as I warmed her thighs her hands continue to creep straight up her thighs and she begins to cry cause...she feels me...she feels me deep inside of her as if she was an abyss and i was her starting point....i watch her as i lose sight of her wrists'but her arms still in motion...i stroke from base to tip outloud as my dick goes steadily into cardiac arrest...i moan..she moans..we moan...we begin to complete each others words...fuck..me..harder...damn...shit...yes..baby...dont...stop...right..there...yes...yes...im...cummin...so we did...

This Week In Black History:Angela Yvonne Davis AKA "Lady Byrd"

Angela Yvonne Davis aka"Lady Byrd",radical black leader,author,activist and communist was born January 29,1944 in Birmingham,AL.At an early age,Angela became interested in the equality for Black People and deciding within herself to make a change in society.Angela was Educated at Elizabeth Irwin High School In NewYork.After Graduation,Angela attended Brandeas University where she received her Bachelor's Degree in Educational Science.She later studied as a Dictoral Canidate at the University of California-San Diego Campus and was mentored by Prof.Herbert Marcuse,author of"One Dimentional Man".Angela within her college years,decided to participate in Campus Rally's for civil rights and then therefore joined the Communist Party in 1968 for her own personal beliefs.She served from 1968-70.Despite her qualifications,the California Board of Reserve refused to renew her appointment as Philosophy Lecturer because of her involvement in the movement.On August 7,1970,during an abortive escape and kidnap from Marin County federal Prison,trial judge and 3 people were killed.Meanwhile Angela,not at the crime scene,was implicated when police claimed that the guns used in the killings were registered in her name.Angela fled underground in panic and dismay and was listed on the FBI's top 10 most wanted list which sparked the biggest manhunt in history.Today,Angela now serves on the Prison Board of Actions for Human Rights and is a Proffesor at The Berkeley College Teaching Criminal Justice.I thank you for your attentiveness on my contribution to Black History and I hope that you enjoyed this Entry.Peace&Eternal Blessings...

"Whelps And Vines"

Come here.."Yes You...let me ask you a question.."If I were a statement of sexuality,what would i be??'...for every sentence..dismember me...if i were a whip could I wrap myself around your thighs and be a part of your wardrobe?

"If i were handcuffs..could i accompany you to a silent room for questioning?"..If i were a dildo..could i lie between your walls and wait for you to cumm rescue me?" Or if i were a pair of Lace Panties..could I face you for 18hours straight drowning in your natural libation?'..tell me...

"If i were motion lotion..would you taste me until you felt warm inside..?"..If I were a husband hiding from closet..could I peek at you in the midnight Hour?"..If I were a window..could you spray me down...down...down..wipe me clean of your fingerprints...tell me..would I be wanted??

Untitled

Here i lay..as i entered this world with a cool breeze that draped my
chocolate silouette...can you please touch me hands free..??.I mean let your lips do the walkin...clean up my thigh and our your peripheral see my nature extend to the sky..

like damn...is that all mine??..or damn who opened the blinds to let in all that sunshine...so structured as if you were carved from imagination or sculpted from a wet dream..let me lean over and kiss you cause i seem to be dehydrated and you may be the only thing to keep me from receiving an i.v.

CPR should be your first name cause I can feel your pulse between my lips 85 beats per minute...never knew chocolate could be so beneficial to you health

"Silent Cries"

She sits there...awaiting me..upon arrival...deciding she needed to be in time out...punishing herself in a lounge chair...ottoman accompaniying...I stand in the shaded doorway unseen...she slides her boy shorts to knee length...salivating drastically....wet fingertips begina hard days work..."my legs are tired"she says"..resting them at arms length..head tilted to the sky...a pulsating clit becomes anxiously teary eyed...360 degrees in rotation of a permanent wrist lock and a bitten lip...I begin to peek at my man thing loosening my zipper..hands freefrom an unexpected growth spurt..base to tip sideways stroked and choked..i glance back at her as a ghost still unseen...moans of overtime fill the silence as we become synchronized in some new pleasures proved...we danced....and we danced..and we danced..until the song was over and we'd had enough...floor glazed with the essence of a man that was strong enough for a woman....

"I Am An Afrikkan"

I am an Afrikkan...my skin...dark as molasses uncured...my stature that of a warrior challenged in a combative surrounding...unleashed by motivation of a scavenger targeted souly on me...

I speak in over 400 dialects of humanity and symbolism

The purity of my blood and it's ancestry..the calouses on

my feet account for the miles ive traveled to feed my seed

I am an Afrikkan..on my back..it is vined in disbelief and

in triumph...enslaved in captivity..if you take an ear..

You can visulaize my sorrow and listen to my cries

I am An Afrikkan..the diamonds in Sierra Leone never fed me..the waters in Nigeria never quenched my thirst..

the trees in Tanzania never sheltered me from the heat waves..and the elephants in Moritania never offered me a ride..Im an Afrikkan..We are Survivers..We are people..We are beautiful...

Is Poetry Lost: Is Poetry Lost

Is Poetry Lost: The Best Of Yuri Speakks

"You"

While poets sleep and dream of silence and poems...angels sleep and dream of home..
Goodnight my love..sweet angel..may your rest be peaceful..and tomorrow may
You Rise to the sun that God sends..to greet you...exclusively

And when you close your eyes..look for me..and as you come into sleep look for me
Runnin' to meet you in a 3 space...a warm and serene place..a dreamspace we can
collect stardust in a jar..just for a keepsake

Listen for me..calling you..as we walk into a deep..awake..surreal..so real we can feel awake...
and we can escape..floating on the crest of a wave of emotion..on the depths of the earth with
limitless range of motion..like a poet and an angel playing in the depths of the ocean breath..
the air..is perfect..and you...your skin..your hair..perfect..we an imperfect pair made perfect in love

...let us be our daily medicine..feed each other in a daily regimine..the type of vitamin you wont find in any daily recommend,,cause L.O.V.E. the way
Lo Heme He recommends..and if more humans could consume this special blend
it could change the specimine

But then again..theres them..and you..them and then us..them..and then we..cant..wont
let them condemn us to this reality..this atmosphere..but tonight my dear..meet me here
in the air..where its clear..and perfect...

I will wait for you behind Mars..where the night is two-toned..and while Im waiting..
I will rearrange the stars and write you a poem..part sky..part sea..part cherub..part being..part me...burst mothers water..first mothers daughter..birth underwater....

She is love..she is me..she is..You

"Acoustik Truth"

As i begin to transcend...my ebony mind rewrites the fictional shit..
tapped into your eardrums listening spot..rainbow filled world in which
we reside..constitutional bearing bullshit..of a "67"sit down busride...
aside from being chastised about a mahogany skinned-toned silouette thats tired..

Of being me..lost in the midst of mine eyes...caloused filled hands branded for passin times
And a neck filled with jagged beauty marks from a thing called..The Nuse Of Love
A poverty filled mouth of a soul emptied..rib rising anger management classes failed
And barebacked asses stairin back at my glarin eyes...life as it unfolds
Sought out..And soon Dies...

"The Muzik"

My ears are open...yea open..Ellington plays a midnight set in my left ear while the Trio sits on my shoulder...i can feel the taps on the forefront of their shoes groovin on me...im the center stage and my eyes are the spot lights of their soon to be standing ovation....Nina simone comes by to kiss my cheek now and then cause Im Porgy and she loves me..."I love you Porgy..."..Dont let him handle me with his hot hands...Jazz is my high all the way live.. I mean...The first time I saw white and black in the same room in unison was through Wynton Kelly's eyes in a trance on his Kitt 125 Midgnight Black Love Slave...i mean he touched her in all the right places to make her scream out"Im At Birdland"...Damn...And Even When Billie's eyes dimmed slowly...her lips made the softest of tones in the midnight hour...Daisy layin on the left side of her beauty draped in silkened garbs and melodies...The Musik...it gets me high like a 115th&Lennox Ave bag of works on friday night...spot me 10 to get in so I dont have to come down and cry again...The Musik...Gil Scott-Herons Drums of a Non Televised Revolution tapped on your window pane to wake you up one 70's mornin...I mean Musik is my permenant erection so I can say Fuck the world all night long and one day name my child Lyric as an inspiration to the cause....Musik....I am

"Dont Mind Me"

As I visualize..whats between passions thighs...I reconcile my differences of the past while..
Resting My head on breast strokes of heart tamed beats beneath the shallow sheets of the
Untold Truth..

Let It Be your guide..to a world wide experience unlimited...intranced by timid eyes..
watchin your every move...your every groove..to capture two sets of soft felt
lips in between my...You know what i mean that good shit..

Leg raised dreams against a wooden filled neverland to land secret moans in the palm
of my everything...sing that mellow tune...I'll make sweet muzik...from January to June
And Make you immune to all others except me..caressing you slowly but still..
mounting that round, brown ass upon a window sill

Droppin off into a feather glazed love spot...too hot to be forgotten...as these walls will talk..
Dont Mind Me...listen tomy thoughts

Is Poetry Lost

Since The beginning,poetry has been an artform used in the curriculums of education as well as in form of self expression.Artist such as Langston Hughes,Nikki Giovanni,Maya Angelou and so on a nd so forth,have been recognized over the years as powerful and motivational forces in the artistry of spoken word. Liberated speakers as well have used quotes from numerous Poets/poetess' and have even bought some of these characters to life on the silver screen.My question to the world is..Is Poetry Lost??Is the artform not recognized now as it was in the 60's and 70's during the revolution??Does it not hold a purpose in society as of today??Poetry in my eyes has gotten people to see reality in the toughest of times and has been used to enlighten people on the unknown.SpeakkUrMind